Those Who Were Seen Dancing
by wabisabija
Summary: Anzu's plan was finally falling into place: she had secured a coveted spot in a renowned dance school in the heart of New York City, a group of great friends both old and new, and a bright future ahead of her. But an unexpected meeting with an old acquaintance may throw a wrench in those plans. Azureshipping. Rated T for now.
1. Chapter 1

"And those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music."  
― Friedrich Nietzsche

* * *

Anzu Mazaki just couldn't believe her luck sometimes.

She stood on the brisk street, waiting to enter the Waldorf Astoria, dressed to the nines with her closest friends for a ball. A charity ball. An A-list charity ball, to be exact. If someone had asked her in high school where she would be when she was 21 years old, she would have never guessed New York City, accomplishing nearly every goal she had set for herself. It had been her lifelong dream to go to the Big Apple after graduation, but she didn't expect it to actually happen. As she stared up at the glamorous hotel, the brisk October wind rustling her blush colored evening gown, she felt a lump in her throat. She had come such a long way from being a young dancer with a slight interest in Duel Monsters. After several long years of hard work, she had landed a spot in the School of American Ballet and, shortly after, a coveted apprenticeship with the New York City Ballet with a promising career (hopefully) ahead of her. She had always been on the sidelines, cheering for others, but now this was finally her time to shine.

"Anzu? You coming?"

Anzu jerked out of her reminiscing by the sound of her roommate of three years. Cecelia was an aspiring jazz singer with a stunning set of pipes, and Anzu could attest to, since she often used their small bathroom as a personal sound booth while showering. She looked absolutely lovely in her turquoise evening gown, perfectly offsetting her russet skin, her black hair swept up in an elegant twist. Cece beamed at her and held out a hand, her bangle bracelets clacking together merrily. "Come on, Anzu! You know Kent doesn't like to be kept waiting."

Swallowing the nervous lump in her throat, Anzu returned the grin and eagerly grasped her hand.

When Kent Warrick had asked Anzu and Cece if they wanted to go to a charity ball as his guests, the girls couldn't accept fast enough. How many times could anyone say that they've been to a charity ball? As guests of someone on the A-list, no less! Kent's father, the owner of a research and manufacturing company, attended this ball every year, and naturally, Kent could tag along. And when Kent tagged along, he decided that Anzu and Cece should tag along as well. He stood just inside the lobby, his dark hair slicked back into a coif that could have come straight from the 1950s. His hands were shoved impatiently in the pockets of his tuxedo and he tapped his foot.

"There you are," he huffed, striding to meet them. "I told you to hurry up!"

"Sorry," Anzu apologized with a sheepish smile. "I just got caught up in the glamour of it all." Kent's coppery eyes fell upon the girls and their gowns, and his expression warmed, and Anzu knew all was forgiven.

It was hard _not_ to get swept up by the beauty and charm that the Waldorf Astoria exuded. Anzu's heels sunk easily into the green, brown, and gold that made up the plush carpeting, and the lights bathed the room in a sultry glow that glimmered off of the paneled walls. In the middle of the lobby stood a grand golden clock, sitting tall on a wooden pedestal, surrounded by cream upholstered furniture. Everything seemed to shout "money," and usually she would roll her eyes at the pompous exuberance, but tonight was different. Tonight was special.

The guests were a sight to behold in their own. All she could hear was the rustling of skirts, boisterous laughs of businessmen, and the drone of gossiping women. Being in the middle of it all made it hard to keep a silly grin off of her face. This was New York in its finest.

The young dancer fell in step besides Cece as they followed Kent through the lobby and under a grand chandelier to a large room full of tables covered in white linen and people eagerly finding their seats. Once again, she was in awe of the sheer glamour of the ballroom, and she gaped around openly. Cream paneled walls with red trimming surrounded them, swathed in a shimmering glow. The tables were round and in the center sat a beautiful bouquet of orange calla lilies and roses. A space was cleared in the middle of the mass of tables to form a dance floor just in front of a mahogany podium.

Glancing at Cece, Anzu nudged her arm. "I can't believe this. Everything is so gorgeous!"

"I know, it's ridiculous!" Cece squealed, her eyes shining brightly.

It was going to be a good night, Anzu could feel it. Something in the pit of her stomach kept her heart aflutter.

Kent's previously antsy scowl had melted into an easy smile. "I told you this was something else." He inclined his head towards a table where his father stood, looking sharp in his crisp tuxedo and black bowtie as he chatted easily with an older woman with a jeweled cane. Mr. Warrick had always been a friendly person, giving off a vibrant air and he was very easy to talk to. Anzu vaguely wondered if those jewels on the woman's gaudy cane were real.

Mr. Warrick's eyes fell upon them and he quickly excused himself from the woman. "Anzu, Cece! How lovely to see you two again!" he boomed, spreading his arms wide with an enthusiastic grin. "And how lovely you look! Come, come, have a seat. This here is our table. Dinner should be served soon, I expect, and then the keynote will begin."

They took their seats at the table, and Anzu found herself between Kent and Cece. She glanced around the table and noticed that an attractive couple joined them. The man wore a standard tux and his hair seemed to be swept back in a tousled, brown coif. The woman at his side wore an emerald ball gown and her curled blonde hair spilled around her shoulders.

"I believe introductions are to be made," Mr. Warrick announced, his warm smile still secure on his face. He gestured towards the couple. "This is William Horan and his wife, Robin." Each smiled in turn. "William here works with me. And these fine young ladies are Anzu Mazaki and Cecelia Robles. Both friends of Kent."

William smiled kindly. "So you both go to NYU as well, then?"

"No," Cecelia chimed in, shaking her head. "I go to Juilliard, actually. Anzu went to the School of American Ballet, and she has an apprenticeship right now with the NYCB."

"Juilliard? The NYCB?" Robin exclaimed, her green eyes widening. "Impressive." Anzu smiled and flushed under the attention. "I used to be in ballet in high school, but I could never have gotten into the SAB with my skill. Congratulations to you both. I'm sure you've worked very hard!"

William had fallen into conversation with Mr. Warrick, and Cece and Robin were talking about the operas they have seen and discussed their favorite works. Without complaint, Anzu settled further into her chair and gazed around the room once again, drinking it all in. Someone nudged her arm, and she turned to see Kent grinning at her.

"It seems like someone's forgiven me for being late," she teased, winking.

Kent shrugged as he propped up his elbow against the back of his chair. "I take mercy on a few souls once and awhile," he replied with a smirk. "So what do you make of all this?"

The young dancer made a show of looking around, meticulously observing the whole room. "Well, I suppose it's adequate." Anzu surmised, shrugging her bare shoulders, earning an amused snort from Kent.

"I know it's not one of your elaborate Duel Monsters competitions, but at least pretend you like it."

"Oh, trust me, this is much better. So, what exactly happens at a charity ball?"

"Well," Kent began, fixing his bowtie, "there's a lot that happens. First of all, there's a lot of fundraising going on, since it's a _charity_ ball. There's a lot of eating and drinking, too, and a brief speech by the keynote speaker, and dancing. Ballroom dancing."

"Ballroom dancing?"

Kent gave her a pointed look. "I would expect you to know how to waltz, at least."

"I know how." Anzu replied defensively. Of course she knew how to waltz, what did Kent take her for?

"Good. Then you'll promise me the first dance?"

"Promise you? Where are we, medieval court?" Kent leveled her with an annoyed glare, to which Anzu shrugged with an easy smile playing on her lips. "Maybe. We'll see how you behave."

Kent rolled his eyes as waiters began to serve them glasses of wine and champagne. Anzu accepted a glass of Chianti, and took a sip, the warm and heady flavor whirling and bursting around her tongue. She glanced towards the front of the room where an older man had occupied the large podium and was tapping experimentally on the microphone.

"Good evening, ladies and gentleman," he said a little bit too loudly, causing some piercing feedback. Anzu winced, a wry little smile working at the corners of her lips as the man pulled away in shock. He cleared his throat and began again. "Now that we have _that_ out of the way..."

The audience gave a polite chuckle.

The man welcomed everyone to what would hopefully be the most successful charity event of the season, taking time to thank those who made everything possible. Anzu tried her best to pay attention to the speaker as he went briefly through the order of events, but it was extremely difficult, since waiters dressed in impeccable white suits began to weave between tables with plates of salad and baskets of warm loaves of artisan bread. She eyed Kent as he received his salad, looking for a cue that would tell her whether or not it was all right to start eating right away. Thankfully, he seized a slice of bread and began to butter it almost immediately. Following suit, Anzu dressed her salad with Italian dressing and began to crunch away, Cece mirroring her actions.

"Wow, the bread is _excellent_." Cece commented, reaching towards the basket for another slice.

"Wait 'til you get to the main course," Kent smirked, reaching across Anzu to yank the bread basket out of Cece's hands.

"And without further ado," the man remarked at the podium, "it gives me great pleasure to announce our keynote speaker for the night. Orphaned at a young age, this inspiring young man has devoted the majority of his time to his younger brother and the rest towards children in need, all while running a multi-billion dollar company with stellar reviews and incredible customer satisfaction."

Anzu chuckled to herself, taking another sip of Chianti. _If I didn't know any better,_ she thought idly, _I would have thought he was talking about..._

"Please welcome Mr. Seto Kaiba!"


	2. Chapter 2

"You have your way. I have my way. As for the right way, the correct way, and the only way, it does not exist."  
-Friedrich Nietzsche

* * *

Thankfully, the applause drowned out the furious hacking coming from Anzu.

Thankfully, everyone had their full attention turned on Seto Kaiba as Kent began to pound on Anzu's back.

Thankfully, only a few people noticed when Cece dragged Anzu out of the banquet hall and into a bathroom.

"Seriously, Anzu, are you all right?" her roommate asked, her voice full of concern as Anzu cupped her hands under the faucet and took a cool, refreshing drink. "Jesus. You are so lucky you didn't spill any wine on your dress. That stain would have been a bitch to get out."

Anzu sniffled as she shook her hands around, trying to dry them. "Seto Kaiba." she rasped, her throat still raw from her episode.

Cece leveled her with a confused stare. "Yeah, Seto Kaiba. You know, CEO of Kaiba Corporation? I would think you would know of him, since he's done all that work with duel disks and whatever."

"No, that's not it. I went to school with Kaiba."

One glance at Cece was all it took to know that she thought Anzu was a dirty, rotten liar. Yet it was no joke, and if it was, the universe had a funny sense of humor. Never in a million years would Anzu expect the keynote speaker to be Kaiba, the incessantly narcissistic and rude classmate that often caused her and her friends a good amount of trouble. A man that she never expected to see again. Of course, towards the end of their high school career, the rivalry between Yugi and Kaiba had been somewhat reconciled, but it was common knowledge that there was still a bad taste left in the young tycoon's mouth.

"You've gotta be shitting me here, Anzu. First you tell me that you're best friends with the King of Games, and now you're telling me that you went to school with Seto Kaiba, one of the _most_ eligible bachelors in the world?"

"Cece, who was Kaiba's rival again?"

"It was... oh, yeah, I see your point. Okay, maybe you're not a liar." Cece sighed and turned to the mirror, pulling a tube of lipstick from the clutch she managed to nab on their way out. She reapplied the lipstick and declared, "Did something happen between you two then? You seemed pretty shocked to see him."

Anzu nearly started choking all over again. "Absolutely not!" she shrilled, shooting Cece an appalled look. "I just never expected to see him again after graduation is all."

"He is pretty hot, though. He has this really intense gaze, you know? Maybe you should get to know him while he's here." Cece mused, winking at Anzu through the mirror.

"Oh my God, Cece. Please, let's not have this conversation."

"What? All I'm saying is that you're a boy magnet and you should probably take advantage of these kinds of situations." The cap of the lipstick snapped into place and Cece tossed it back into her clutch. "Ready to go back out?"

After skirting a hand over her hair, Anzu nodded. They made their way out of the bathroom and across the hallway, hovering in the doorway as not to disturb Kaiba's speech. Anzu took this chance to study the tall, brown haired man standing at the podium, his words skirting past her as she took him in. Not much had changed since the last time she saw him, to which she wasn't surprised. He might have been ruthless, but he was never really drastic enough to change his entire appearance. He did look older, though. His cobalt eyes regarded the audience neutrally, a warm contrast from the usual icy stare that frosted his gaze. His low, smooth voice flowed through the room with confidence and ease, his English impeccable with virtually no hint of an accent.

Now that she thought about it, it was not a big surprise that Kaiba was chosen as the keynote speaker, since the charity of the night was to go towards the children of the city who were in need. It was no secret that he, along with his younger brother Mokuba, was adopted at a young age. He had taken care of his brother, through thick and thin, even going so far as personally rescuing him from kidnappings. With the occasional help from Anzu and her friends, of course.

The sudden round of applause snapped Anzu out of her musings. _Did I miss his whole speech?_ she wondered incredulously as Cece grabbed her wrist and yanked her back to the table. _Maybe the wine is getting to me._

"Are you alright?" Kent asked, giving Anzu a slightly amused glance. "That was, uh, graceful."

"Yeah, yeah." she responded flippantly, sitting at her chair, ignoring the bemused glances from the others at the table. "Just swallowed wrong, that's all."

"Well, they've served the main course. It's a plum glazed turkey, stuffed with spinach, bacon, and cashews."

Anzu glanced down at the plate in front of her, eyeing the artfully arranged, expertly carved pieces of turkey. The tantalizing smell of the dish wafted to her nose and her mouth began to water. As she began to cut into the turkey, she noticed that something was amiss at the table.

"Hey, Kent." Cece began, reaching for her glass of wine. "Where did your dad go?"

Kent flicked his eyes over his father's vacant seat and shrugged. "Probably going to talk to some colleagues, I'm sure."

From across the table, William nodded his head as an affirmation. "He'll be right back." he said mildly. "I hope you're okay, Anzu."

Anzu could feel her cheeks heat up. Why did she have to react to Kaiba in such an embarrassing way? "Yeah, I'm fine, thanks." she muttered, angrily cutting away at her dinner. She popped a forkful of turkey into her mouth as she glanced toward the podium, where Kaiba was currently speaking to the older man that introduced him. She nudged Kent with her elbow. "Who is that man that Kaiba's speaking to?"

Kent craned his neck toward the podium and squinted. "Oh, that's Roger Hildebrand. He's the founder of the charity this ball is funding." he explained, pushing a cashew around the edge of his plate. "Supposedly he's a big fan of Duel Monsters, and the charity runs an after school dueling club with the NYCDOE. Kaiba's probably thrilled."

The young dancer managed a faint nod, but was lost in thought as she continued to study the pair. More specifically, Kaiba himself. She couldn't help but notice how dashing he looked in his well-tailored tuxedo. Anzu thought back on the conversation she had with Cece in the bathroom, and her cheeks began to burn.

She watched Kaiba press his lips together and lift his eyes from Hildebrand. Suddenly, he seemed to be staring straight at her.

Anzu's heart spluttered as she tore her gaze away and focused on finishing the last bits of bacon on her plate. _There's no way he could have noticed you from all the way across the room,_ she told herself as she silently willed herself to get a grip. One thing she did _not_ want was for her former nemesis to approach her and scornfully point out that she didn't belong at the ball, what with her financial status. Of course, her apprenticeship had improved her bank account, but she was nowhere near the average figures of those in attendance.

Mr. Warrick returned to the table, but firmly grasped the back of his chair instead of sitting and resuming his meal. "Kent," he announced, leaning against the chair, "I think it would be a good idea if you and I spoke to Mr. Kaiba. He'd be a good connection for you to have."

Struggling to keep a neutral face, Anzu busied herself by cutting her remaining turkey into tiny squares with the edge of her fork. She saw Kent shrug out of the corner of her eye.

"Maybe later." He replied. "It looks like he's still talking to the master of ceremonies."

"You're going to miss your shot, Kent." Cece quipped. "Kaiba's our age, you know."

There was something in Cece's tone that made Anzu nervous. She shot her roommate a wary glance, to which Cece responded with an innocent smile.

"Really?" asked Kent, intrigued. "I mean, I knew he was young, but not _that_ young."

 _Don't do anything stupid, Cece,_ Anzu thought desperately. _Please don't do anything stupid._

"Oh, yeah. As a matter of fact, he was a classmate of Anzu's in Japan!"

Anzu's knuckles turned white as she squeezed her fork. Suddenly, all eyes at the table on hers; Mr. Warrick's gaze impressed, Cece's mischievous, Robin and William's awed, and Kent's dubious.

"Your classmate…?" uttered Kent in disbelief. "Seto Kaiba was your classmate?"

"I… well, um…" Anzu stutterd, rubbing her arm self-consciously. "I mean, yeah, we did go to the same school, but-!"

"Well, then!" Mr. Warrick said with a chuckle. "That settles it. You'll just have to come with us, Anzu!"

Shaking her head furiously, Anzu tried to talk her way out of the dreaded reunion. "Oh, no, it's really not necessary. Kaiba and I never…" She trailed off. She was going to explain how they never really saw much of each other, but that wasn't true. As one of Yugi's closest friends, she saw a great deal of Kaiba, both as a bitter rival and as a begrudging ally. "We were never that close." she finished lamely, shooting a smirking Cece a poisonous look.

Mr. Warrick slapped the back of his chair. "Nonsense! I'm sure he would be delighted to see a former classmate."

Kent wiped his mouth with a cream colored linen napkin and pushed himself away from the table. He glanced at Anzu, who hadn't made a move to join them. Mr. Warrick was already walking away from the table, keen on meeting with Kaiba before he missed the opportunity.

"Is something up?" Kent asked quietly as Anzu slowly stood.

She smoothed the skirt of her dress and cleared her throat. "It's nothing, really." she responded, meeting Kent's confused gaze. She knew she was acting strange and it bothered her. Since when did Anzu Mazaki let Kaiba scare her? She shook her head, clearing her thoughts and stated firmly, "It's nothing."

Kent's brow furrowed. "If you say so."

Steeling her resolve, Anzu followed Kent and his father as they began to weave between crowds of immaculately dressed men and women, slowly making their way to the young tycoon. As they neared, Anzu willed her heart to stop beating so wildly. _I will not let Kaiba scare me_ , she thought angrily. _I am not a coward._

Colbalt eyes settled on hers.

If he were surprised, Anzu wouldn't have known it. Kaiba's face remained neutral as he silently appraised her and the Warricks as the master of ceremonies chattered away, unaware that he had lost his audience. Anzu didn't know if she should smile at him or not. A large portion of her high school career involved Kaiba, even if he was mostly Yugi's opponent. The last time she had seen him, they had been on somewhat neutral terms. She had a hunch that he still harbored resentment for Yugi, however. He had never been able to beat him in a duel.

"Mr. Kaiba!" Mr. Warrick boomed. "Samuel Warrick, of Warrick Enterprise."

Mr. Warrick took Kaiba's hand in a firm handshake. It was fascinating to see Kaiba in business mode. The Kaiba that Anzu had known in high school always had a condescending look in his eye and was always eager to point out how he was better than everyone else. But as he regarded Mr. Warrick, Kaiba remained poised and collected.

Mr. Warrick quickly introduced his son. As Kaiba shook Kent's hand, Mr. Warrick added, "And I expect you remember Miss Anzu?"

Kaiba's gaze flicked back to Anzu, who struggled not to fidget. Was she supposed to shake his hand as well?

Luckily, Anzu's anxiety was laid to rest as Kaiba gave her a curt nod. "Mazaki."

Anzu nodded back, frustrated that he continued to keep a neutral mask. She wanted to know what he was thinking. Was he wondering what an average girl is doing in such an upscale event? Was he irritated at her presence? What was running through his mind?

"It's to my understanding that you and Anzu were great friends in high school!" Mr. Warrick continued on excitedly. He beamed, acting as if he had performed a wonderful deed by reuniting the two long lost "friends." Kaiba's eyes snapped back to Anzu's, his brows knit with mild bewilderment. Anzu's hand went to her mouth to stifle a laugh, pleased that Mr. Warrick had made the young tycoon's mask crack.

"Oh yes, the best of friends." She said mirthfully, shrugging her bare shoulders.

Kaiba, with a voice that held a barely detectable edge, responded, "We were classmates."

Anzu saw Kent glance between her and Kaiba out of the corner of her eye, his face screwed in confusion. She knew that only moments ago she was visibly tense, but Mr. Warrick's misinterpretation of their relationship had humorously settled her nerves. Something about the fact that Mr. Warrick had assumed that she was a good friend of the man who took every chance to squash her attempts at forging a friendship was just too funny.

"I'm just so pleased to finally meet you, Kaiba." Mr. Warrick boomed, clapping the younger businessman on the shoulder. Anzu saw Kaiba's eyes flick down towards the gesture, but his face betrayed no annoyance. He had reassembled his mask from his previous slip-up.

Kent nudged Anzu with his elbow as Mr. Warrick engaged Kaiba in a dull conversation concerning stocks. "He's kind of like a robot, isn't he?" he muttered into Anzu's ear. "Are you sure you two are friends?"

"He was Yugi's rival, remember?" she whispered back, tilting her head so she faced away from the subject in question. "What do you think that says about our friendship?"

"Oh, yeah. I forgot about that," he responded, running a hand through his hair. "At least he's being nice. Well, not nice, exactly… Cordial, maybe? Distant?"

Anzu glanced back at Kaiba, who was still engaged in Mr. Warrick's conversation. "Definitely distant. I mean, we didn't have deep heart-to-hearts about his innermost feelings back then, but he always at least made sure that we knew we were inferior to him."

Kent snickered. "Sounds about right, from what I've heard. I know that Business Kaiba is dominating and ruthless. I guess Charity Kaiba is a completely different animal."

From somewhere in the front of the glittering hall, the warm sound of tuning strings began to swell. Kent glanced in the direction of the orchestra, grinned, and held out his hand in a grandiose gesture.

"Miss Mazaki, may I have the honor of having the first dance?"

Anzu rolled her eyes at the gesture, but couldn't stop the corners of her mouth from pulling up into a smirk. She lifted her hand to take his, but Mr. Warrick snatched it up.

He gave Anzu a wide grin and said, "Oh, but I'm sure we should let Kaiba and Anzu have the first dance together! I'm positive they would like to catch up after all this time."

Horrified, Anzu felt herself being tugged towards Kaiba, whose brows had once again furrowed and lips had pressed into a thin line. She shot a pleading look towards Kent, who merely shrugged in response. From the two and a half years she had known him, she came to learn that his father was persistent. Very persistent.

She glanced back at Kaiba and was startled. For the first that night, she saw the Kaiba she was familiar with. The young man had raised his chin haughtily and his eyes had narrowed. With a wave of his hand, he sneered, "That certainly won't be necessary."

Anzu stopped dead in her tracks, her wrist slipping out of Mr. Warrick's grasp. That was the Kaiba she knew… and loathed.

She didn't know what came over her. It might have been her frustration over his sudden transition from his robotic disposition, or perhaps it was just old grudges bubbling back to the surface. Or maybe it was just the buzz of wine running through her body. Whatever it was, he had certainly struck a nerve.

She just blurted it out.

"What's wrong, Kaiba? Don't tell me you're afraid of dancing."

Kaiba's gaze met hers, his colbalt eyes cold and sharp. Anzu arched an eyebrow as he studied her, knowing he had heard her underlying challenge. Part of her was cursing, wondering why on earth she had said that to a man she would rather ignore for the rest of the night, but a bigger part of her drowned out the doubt, eagerly waiting to see if he would take her bait.

It was a childish game, she knew, but a game Kaiba would play nonetheless. He never lost to Yugi's lackeys.

He scoffed, crossing his arms. "That's ridiculous."

"Then what are we waiting for?"

There was a slight pause, and Anzu saw the gears in his head turning and turning. After what seemed to be a lifetime, Kaiba sighed. "Fine," was his terse reply, spinning on his heel towards the dance floor where other couples in elegant evening wear began to gather. "I hope you know how to waltz."

"Why does everyone ask me that?" Anzu muttered to herself, pointedly ignoring Mr. Warrick's satisfied grin. She began to follow Kaiba's quick steps, but someone tugged on her arm.

"Are you sure about this?" Kent asked, his fingers urgent on her elbow.

 _Of course I'm not sure about dancing with Kaiba,_ she thought, trying to keep her facial expression confident and composed. _I shouldn't have said anything after he declined in the first place. Anything that happens as a result of this is purely my fault._

"I'll be fine." Anzu forced herself to say, her voice cheerful. "It's just a dance, after all."

She knew Kent didn't believe her by his furrowed brow and pursed lips, but he let her go.

"Good luck, Anzu. I hope you know what you're doing."


	3. Chapter 3

Hey, guys! Thank you so much for the reviews so far, they mean a lot! I mean to post a chapter every week on Sunday, but that may slow when classes start again on the 19th. In the meantime, please enjoy the third chapter!

* * *

"There is always some madness in love. But there is also always some reason in madness."  
-Friedrich Nietzsche

* * *

What a ridiculous and utterly degrading situation it was.

If someone had told Seto that morning that he would be standing in front of Mutou's personal cheerleader, preparing to dance the first waltz of the night, he would have deemed them insane.

As a matter of fact, the last person he had expected to see while in New York City was her. He had known that Mazaki jetted to New York as soon as she was accepted to a dance school, but he had not expected her in the Waldorf at an affluent charity ball. Yet there she was, striding up to him in an extravagant blush evening gown, the bodice sparkling with every step, her blue eyes set into a determined glare.

Seto cursed his decision to come to the charity ball, cursed Samuel Warrick for suggesting this blasted waltz, but he mostly cursed himself for being foolish enough to walk right into Mazaki's trap.

When she had made the ridiculous accusation that he was afraid of dancing, he knew she was initiating a game that he could not refuse, and he definitely would not let Mazaki get the upper hand. As much as he would like to shoot the bubbly girl down, there ran the risk of her running back to the nerd herd to cry about his cruelty, which could lead to some sort of leak to the media, which could lead to a tarnished reputation. Furthermore, turning her down would be admitting defeat. He would lose, and Seto Kaiba did not lose.

Mazaki reached Seto, her lips pressed together into a thin line. They stood in front of each other, willing the other to make the first move. Charity goers all around them were eagerly partnering up, men taking women by the waist in preparation for the beginning notes. Seto remained still, his arms firmly folded across his chest as he stared down at his former classmate. She met his gaze evenly, their blue eyes clashing as she mirrored his posture.

She looked much the same as she did in high school, perhaps a touch thinner and her hair a bit longer. He assumed Mazaki's attitude hadn't changed either, and he braced himself for the onslaught of sunshine and rainbows and dreaded friendship.

The conductor tapped his baton on this music stand, causing a hush to settle over the anticipating dancers.

Mazaki let out an exasperated sigh. "Well?" she snapped, holding out her hand.

She had cracked first. One point for Seto.

Suppressing a smirk, he settled his left hand on the swell of her hip and took her hand with the other. Seto noticed that her nails were pink and nicely manicured. At least they weren't bitten to the quick, as he had often seen her chewing away at the tips whenever she got stressed during tournaments.

They began to move with the first notes from the orchestra, lulled into the moderate one-two-three, one-two-three sway of the music. Mazaki moved easily with Seto, much to his irritation. She knew how to pick her battles, it seemed.

"You're actually pretty good at this." Mazaki admitted, peering up at him with a befuddled expression.

"I'm good at everything I do, Mazaki." Seto sniffed, hoping she would drop the conversation and remain silent for the rest of the dance. The sooner it was over, the better.

"Your people skills could use some work."

Seto scowled. "What makes you think that my people skills are lacking?" He resisted the childish urge to squeeze the life out of her fingers in retaliation to her cheeky retort.

"Do I really need to answer that one?" asked Mazaki, tilting her head, "I think your track record speaks for itself."

One point for Mazaki.

Seto broke their gaze, pressing his lips into a thin line. Couples swirled and glided all around them and he desperately wished he were back in his hotel room, sipping a calming glass of scotch.

He heard Mazaki emit a small sigh. "Look, Kaiba, I don't want to bicker."

A scoff escaped Kaiba's lips. He was not interested in where she was trying to steer the conversation. "What, am I your next victim in your crusade to befriend the world?"

Mazaki gave him a slightly wounded look. It was her that glanced away that time. "I'm not that naïve anymore." she grumbled. "A few years dancing in New York will teach you that much."

Seto's brow furrowed. He had to admit that he was interested in just what broke Mazaki's iron resolve to spread the sacred word of friendship. Deep down, under the utter annoyance he held for her and her friends, he had reluctantly admired her determination. He couldn't escape her dream of going to New York to pursue a dancing career (as she often talked about it), and her acceptance into the School of American Ballet had rendered him begrudgingly impressed. Mazaki must have read his expression as a sign to continue, for she pressed on.

"Although, it has gotten better," she said with a small smile. "I've been able to dance with a great company. I plan on auditioning for a part in The Nutcracker soon. I mean, I'll probably just be placed in the corps, but a girl can dream."

"Fascinating." Seto deadpanned, ignoring Mazaki's dance lingo and trying to determine when the waltz was to end. Mazaki huffed at his apparent lack of interest and fell silent, much to his relief. He considered that a point in his favor.

The silence, however, did not last long.

"So... what are you doing in New York?"

"Business."

"Hey, is Mokuba in town as well?"

Seto ground his teeth together. Couldn't she just stay quiet for the rest of the dance? "Yes, he is." he muttered.

A large, radiant smile bloomed Mazaki's face. "Oh my gosh, is he here? At the ball?"

The young businessman was taken aback by the sudden brilliance of her smile. Her blue eyes sparkled under the intimate lighting of the banquet hall, and suddenly Seto noticed the light flush that dusted the delicate apples of her cheeks from the waltz. Seto had also noticed that the room had become inexplicably warm, or so he told himself.

 _She's pretty._

Perhaps he didn't need that glass of scotch after all.

Seto shook his head, clearing his ridiculous thoughts from his mind. He swallowed.

"No, he chose to stay in for the night." he finally announced, carefully controlling the tone of his voice so that he didn't reveal how troubled he was by his strange behavior. He needed to get a grip.

"You should give me his phone number!" Mazaki chirped. "I haven't seen him in so long."

Seto meant not to answer, as the music had swelled to a crescendo as the waltz slowed to a finale. He planned to take his leave as soon as possible. He quickly withdrew his hands, but hers latched onto his left wrist. Her eyes bore into his expectantly.

"Let me go grab my phone, okay? It's back at my table. Wait here." She gave him one last smile and trotted off the dance floor to retrieve her phone. Seto stood awkwardly in the middle of the dance floor as more couples eagerly crowded in for the next dance. He was alone and utterly uncomfortable.

There was really no reason for him to stay. He didn't owe Mazaki anything.

Urgent taps from the conductor's baton alerted him that the second dance was about to begin, and he hastily began to make his way to the edge of the dance floor, careful not to step on any dress hems or feet. A strange pit had settled in his stomach as his mind kept replaying Mazaki's smile. He hated her, that much he knew. So why could he still feel heat in his cheeks?

* * *

Rain relentlessly pummeled New York City as Anzu stalked through Central Park, huddling beneath her red and black spotted umbrella. It was nearing the end of the unusually chilly October, and the rain continued to pound down throughout the month, causing the fallen leaves to clump together into rotting, half frozen globs. The scraggly tree branches, scratching at the dismal gray sky, barely offered any shelter. The young dancer cursed the frigid air for making her feet ache through her rain boots.

"If it's going to be this cold, it might as well snow." she muttered, exiting the maze of bare trees onto the busy metropolitan street. The café she sought was on the other side of the street, crammed with people trying to get out of the downpour. She crossed the street, resisting the urge to kick the impatient taxi that kept inching into the crosswalk as it waited for the stoplight to turn green.

Anzu closed her umbrella and squeezed through the door and she was instantly surrounded by the ambiance of the busy café. The sounds of an erratic saxophone, nearly drowned out by the noise of customers, were being piped through the speakers, matching the pace of the frazzled servers bustling around with trays loaded with lattes and pastries. She suddenly ducked, narrowly avoiding a waitress' tray colliding with her head. The waitress shouted out a hurried apology and continued on with her business. Anzu skirted a hand over her hair, hoping she wouldn't have to redo her meticulous bun before rehearsal.

"Anzu! Over here!"

Tucked in the corner of the cramped coffee shop, a teenager eagerly jumped out of his chair, waving enthusiastically. A grin worked its way onto Anzu's face as she began to squeeze through the crowd towards the small table, taking extra care to avoid hitting anyone with her bulky dance bag.

Mokuba Kaiba had certainly grown quite a bit since the last time Anzu had seen him. He easily had a few inches on her now, and his former adolescent scrawniness was beginning to give into a fuller, more adult form. His violet eyes were still alert and mischievous, but they peered out from a matured face, covered by a mass of shaggy, black hair, shorter than what she was used to seeing.

"Mokuba!" she exclaimed, meeting the teenager with a tight hug. "I've missed you! I haven't seen you in ages, look at how _tall_ you are!"

As they pulled apart, Mokuba beamed. "Well, they say that's what happens as you get older." he said teasingly, earning a snort form Anzu. They took a seat as a frazzled waitress approached them. They submitted their orders (one black coffee, one mug of green tea), and the waitress scurried away.

Mokuba eyed the lumpy duffel bag Anzu had hastily shoved under the table with a raised brow. "Going on a trip?"

"I wish," Anzu sighed. The waitress reappeared with two mugs of steaming drinks, then disappearing just as quickly as she had arrived. The dancer gratefully wrapped her chilled hands around the warm mug. "I actually have rehearsal at 5, and I figured I could just bring my stuff here instead of running back to my apartment."

"How is dancing, by the way?" Mokuba asked, taking a sip of his coffee. He winced at the heat. "Keeping you busy?"

The two launched into easy conversation. Anzu gushed about how great the SAB and her NYCB apprenticeship had been (busy, demanding, physically and emotionally taxing, but such a rewarding experience), and Mokuba lamented about his senior year of high school. Anzu couldn't believe it had been so long since she had spoken, _really_ spoken, to anyone from the dueling days. Sure, she had kept sporadic contact with Yugi and the rest of the gang, but choosing to stay in New York City last summer had put a strain on their contact. Yugi and Jonouchi were always busy with various dueling competitions and publicity stints, as well as Mai. Honda, Shuzuka, and Bakura were equally as busy with their own studies. Otogi had a budding business to run.

Speaking with Kaiba the weekend before absolutely did not count.

It was nice to be independent from the gang, but she found herself missing them greatly.

Anzu had not realized that she had fallen silent, lost in her thoughts, until Mokuba's voice interrupted.

"So I heard you danced with the devil last Saturday evening."

Blinking owlishly, Anzu struggled to comprehend. When Mokuba waggled his eyebrows, however, she suddenly understood what he was talking about.

"I'm assuming the devil is your snotty, stuck-up brother." she concluded, taking a dignified sip of her coffee. "I'm surprised he told you about that. I had assumed he wouldn't want anyone to know that the great Seto Kaiba had stooped so low as to touch my plebeian hand."

Mokuba snorted. "He _didn't_ want anyone to know, but I wouldn't stop pestering him about how you got my number."

"I'm sure he loved that."

"Immensly." The younger Kaiba paused, and then added, "How was it?"

Anzu narrowed her eyes. "How was what?" she asked, her voice flat. She had noticed a strange glint in Mokuba's eye. It was unsettling. He began to shift uncomfortably under her scrutiny.

"You know," he shrugged, "was Seto at least cordial? A good dancer?"

"You're acting strange, Mokuba." Anzu announced. "What's your motive?"

"Motive? Why should I have a motive?" the youngest Kaiba questioned, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. "I just want ammunition to use against Seto, that's all. Please tell me he stepped on your toes."

Despite her suspicions, Anzu couldn't help but chuckle. "Unfortunately, no. He was infuriatingly good at waltzing." She propped her chin in her hand and stared at the rain cascading down the shop windows. "Where did he learn to dance like that?"

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Mokuba shrug. "Probably just a rich kid talent."

"Can you waltz?"

"Not even to save my life."

Anzu hummed absent mindedly, still perplexed over how light Kaiba was on his feet. She had desperately wanted him to be bad at waltzing so she could have the upper hand in the situation. She supposed she did have some sort of advantage, as he had seemed extremely uncomfortable when she had found him again, cell phone at the ready for Mokuba's number. After that, he melted into the crowd and she hadn't seen him again all night. _He was probably just embarrassed about the fact that he had to even speak to me._ Anzu concluded with a smirk. _Oh, well. He needed to be knocked down a few pegs, anyways._

"What are you two doing in New York, anyways?" she asked, her eyes still locked on the rainy window. "Your brother said something about business, but he didn't elaborate."

"Well, Kaiba Corp. is expanding, and the New York branch is due to open in a month or two."

"And Kaiba's here to make sure nobody screws up?"

"Exactly. I'm just here to visit. I have school to attend, you know."

Anzu grinned at the younger Kaiba. "I can't believe you're almost done. Going to university?"

Mokuba returned the smile. "Yep. Tokyo."

"You're making me feel way too old, kid."

The two friends continued to play catch-up, their conversation flowing as if they had maintained daily contact for years. After draining a second mug of tea, Anzu's phone chirped. She glanced at the screen and cursed.

"I'm sorry Mokuba, but I completely lost track of the time. Rehearsal starts in ten minutes!" she blurted, yanking her dance bag from under the table. She gave the bewildered boy a quick hug. "I'll shoot you a text. I'll treat you to dinner before you leave, okay?"

She didn't give him time to answer. She was already scurrying out the door.


	4. Chapter 4

I apologize for the lateness of this chapter! School has started up again and I'm trying to balance two jobs AND an internship. So we'll see how that goes. Enjoy the chapter!

* * *

"All truth is simple... is that not doubly a lie?"  
\- Friedrich Nietzsche

* * *

Anzu shoved her numb hands deep into the pockets of her jacket, hunching her shoulders to shield herself from the wind. Her feet still ached from practice, yet there she was, standing outside of a nightclub in four-inch heels, about twenty tipsy people away from the entrance. She had barely stepped foot into her apartment after the grueling rehearsal before Cece shoved a shot of whipped cream flavored vodka in her hands while excitedly chatting about this new club she had heard about named Rapture.

"We have to go, Anzu!" she exclaimed, clinking her own shot glass against her roommate's. "It's Friday night, after all! And it's all anyone's talking about!"

It had seemed like a good idea to opt for the gold-sequenced miniskirt when the dancer was good and tipsy. After waiting in line for a half hour, however, the alcohol blanket had worn off and Anzu began to shiver uncontrollably.

"This sucks, Cece." she grumbled, huddling against the girl for warmth. "Can't we just get some take-out and go back home?"

Cece shook her head and slapped her hands against her thighs a few times to maintain feeling in her legs. "No way. We've come this far, and I refuse to back out now."

"It's been an hour!" Anzu complained. All she wanted was food and a nice, warm blanket.

"This is when rich kid privilege is really, _really_ nice."

Anzu and Cece whirled around to find Kent with a smile plastered to his face, standing with two other men.

"Kent, you piece of shit!" Cece called with a grin, planting her hands on her hips. "Let me guess. Daddy Warrick got you and your lame friends on the VIP list?"

Kent's friends sniggered as he shamelessly shrugged. "The owner of the club is a valuable connection, Ceec. I've got to make good on the Warrick name. Strictly business, of course."

Anzu eyed Kent's apparel, which consisted of dark wash jeans, a grey V-neck and a dark navy blazer. She scoffed, "Yeah, I always do my business while wearing shutter shades." Cece barked out a laugh.

Kent grinned as he slid the neon yellow shutter shades that were dangling from his blazer pocket over his eyes. "What can I say? I've got to look my best."

"Alright, that's enough screwing around." Cece announced, stepping forward to jab Kent in the chest with her index finger. "Are you going to get us into this club or what?"

He let out a dejected sigh, his face falling into mock disappointment. "Is that all I am to you? Just some rich boy you think you can use to get access to one percent perks? You wound me, Ceec."

Rolling her eyes at the theatrics, Anzu stamped her feet. Her toes had begun to tingle. She started to plan out where she would stop to pick up food once she decided to leave the never-moving line to the club. _Maybe I'll stop at that Indian place a block away from the apartment… or am I craving sushi tonight?_

"Well, I guess I could pull a few strings."

Smacking Anzu's arm victoriously, Cece exclaimed, "Did you hear that, Anzu? We're getting in!"

With a sigh, Anzu followed her excited roommate and a self-righteous Kent past the disgruntled line to the front door, where the bouncer frowned at them, or more specifically at Kent's garish shutter shades. The hulking man waved his clipboard. "Name?"

"Warrick." Kent replied smoothly, tucking his hands into his jean pockets. The bouncer raised an eyebrow, staring past Kent's shoulder to Anzu and the others, where they had huddled together to shield themselves from a sudden gust of wind. "Oh! Plus four."

The bouncer nodded. "Right this way, Mr. Warrick." He unclipped a red velvet rope with his meaty hand and inclined his head, signaling them to enter.

Cece clutched Anzu's hand and tugged her through the entrance, following Kent and his friends closely. "Kent's friends are kind of cute, huh?"

Anzu would have been lying if she said the thought hadn't crossed her mind. Both men were tall and had strong jaws and friendly eyes, everything that she liked in a guy. Check, check, and check.

She could feel the club before she saw it. A wall of heat hit her, thick and heavy, a stark contrast to the frigid outside air. A remix of "Hotline Bling" pounded in her ears, the heavy bass synching with her heartbeat. Her eyes were assaulted with flashing and swaying lights, causing her to blink rapidly. Kent's friends whooped excitedly and Cece's grip on Anzu's hand tightened. They wove between waves of people, moving with the swaying bodies until they reached a roped off area.

"Bottle service?" she vaguely heard Cece yell. The music had nearly swallowed her voice.

Kent spoke to yet another bouncer who was standing at the entrance, leaning close to his ear in order to combat the thumping music. Anzu saw the bouncer nod at Kent's silent words and unclipped yet another velvet rope to let them in. She quickly shed her jacket as they reached an empty booth, as she had already begun to sweat.

They piled into the circular booth, their coats hung on the tiny coat hooks installed at the end of the booth. Anzu found herself between Kent's brown haired friend (he had introduced himself as Matthew) and Cece.

A scantily clad cocktail waitress immediately approached the table with two ice buckets, one filled with Dom Pérignon and the other filled with Grey Goose. Another waitress trailed after the first with a tray filled with glasses, various fruit juices and sodas, and different garnishes.

Eyes wide, Anzu stared at the expensive bottles of alcohol. The charity ball was one treat from Kent, but bottle service as well? She knew the crazy markup on liquor at bars, and she can only imagine the amount of money that would be spent tonight.

"Something on your mind, Anzu?" Kent called, leaning across the table with a smirk."

"There is no way you're going to buy us all alcohol tonight!" Anzu hollered back, her face incredulous.

Kent shrugged. "It's not like I can't afford it. Consider it a gift."

A small part of her, deep deep down, really did enjoy the luxury and the opulence. But she would never admit it. All this extravagance was simply too much for Anzu, even if it wouldn't put a tiny dent in Kent's wallet.

Cece grinned and set to work opening one of the bottles of Grey Goose. "Just relax, Anzu, let loose!" She set to work pouring her roommate a Greyhound. "Tonight's about getting weird, not worrying about Kent's financial situation. Besides, spoiler alert, his financial situation says at least a few more bottles of these babies!"

Kent quickly popped a bottle of champagne and let the foam spill onto the table. "To getting fucked up!" he cried, raising the bottle.

The rest of the group repeated the toast enthusiastically. Anzu raised her glass, but didn't respond. She really did feel bad about Kent getting them into the club and treating them to bottle service. However, a small voice in the back of her head urged her to forget about it for one night and have some fun. She could always repay him in the future. Somehow.

With a firm nod she tossed back her drink, finishing it in a few swallows, and promptly coughed. Cece had made it rather strong.

* * *

By this point, Seto was deeply regretting the trip to New York City entirely. So far, all he'd done was become involved in situations he would normally refuse to participate in. First was dancing with Yugi's main squeeze at the charity ball, second was letting Mokuba rile him up over that dance, and third was this club. Nursing a glass of rather expensive scotch, Seto found himself discussing a lucrative opportunity to coordinate a Duel Monsters tournament in Las Vegas with the notorious Anthony Corsetti.

Corsetti was a young hotshot mogul who owned several successful clubs around the United States, including the brand new Rapture in New York City where they currently sat, The Coach in Los Angeles, and Ember in Las Vegas. He had bumped into Seto just as he was leaving the charity ball and refused to let him leave before exchanging contact information.

"I've got a fantastic idea that you'll be sure to accept." Corsetti drawled, slipping a business card from his expensive looking jacket. "Give me a ring and we'll set something up, eh?"

Seto had mulled over the offer for the majority of the weekend. He was inclined to say no because, in all honesty, Seto had found the man rather tacky and simply did not want to do business with him. His more concrete reason was that he wanted to focus on the opening of the new United States headquarters of Kaiba Corporation, due to be stationed in the One World Trade Center. However, with the urging of Mokuba, Seto had decided that a call wouldn't hurt. After all, through thorough research, the brothers had discovered Corsetti's shocking success with his nightclubs.

Never had Seto assumed that he would find himself in the VIP section of a nightclub on business. Or ever, for that matter, but Corsetti had insisted. The ostentatious music had burrowed itself in his ear, causing a dull headache to thump in his temples. After three (or was it four) glasses of scotch, however, the headache was beginning to subside, leaving an almost pleasant tingle in its wake.

Leaning forward in his plush armchair, Corsetti peered at the elder Kaiba over his sunglasses. "Don't you agree, Kaiba?" he asked, swirling his Negroni in his hand. A smarmy grin played on his lips, and Seto couldn't help but notice that the flashing lights of the club would glint obnoxiously off of Corsetti's thoroughly oiled hair. "The venue's fuckin' fantastic. We can easily get more sponsors other than me, and we can get space at Caesar's Palace or the MGM Grand, no problem. They'll eat that shit up, Kaiba. It'll bring in revenue for the hotels _and_ the casinos, if they're smart and hold bets on the matches. May I remind you that the United States has not had a Duel Monsters champion since the untimely demise of Keith Howard, may he rest in peace. We'll bring in the best damn duelists all over the country!"

Seto suppressed a scoff by taking another drink of scotch. Keith Howard was a worthless duelist, and the fact that Corsetti respected the man spoke quite a bit about his character.

"I don't like the idea of an American competition." Seto announced, placing his glass on the table between them. Corsetti's smile faltered, which gave Seto great satisfaction. He pressed on. "Kaiba Corporation is an international conglomerate, and it would be unwise to create such a small tournament in this junction of my career."

Corsetti's brows knit. Seto could tell that he was used to getting his way. Unfortunately for Corsetti, so was he.

"I'm not sure what you mean, Kaiba."

The idea of tournaments was always exciting to Seto, as he has but on many successful tournaments in Japan. He also knew that a tournament in the United States would bring great publicity to Kaiba Corp, but what Corsetti was proposing wasn't good enough. It wasn't _grand_ enough.

"I'm saying what we need is an international competition."

Corsetti sat back in his chair, bringing his glass to his lips. He was silent for a few moments, and Seto began to get irritated. He glanced at his wristwatch and was annoyed to find that the time was quickly approaching midnight. He wanted to go home.

"You're an ambitious bastard, Kaiba." Corsetti finally said with a grin. "Okay, I'll humor you. We'll have an international competition. Will we have it open to anyone or will we have regionals in each country? Never mind that, it'll only be the best of the best of the best. We'll use prior tournament records to determine invites. We can establish regionals for future tournaments."

Corsetti snapped his fingers and a cocktail waitress appeared, refilling his glass. He winked at the girl and she giggled. Seto rolled his eyes.

"Now that business is out of the way," Corsetti announced, pausing to take a long drink of Negroni, "the fun can begin!"

"Not likely." Seto responded, his voice cold. "I have other things to attend to. I appreciate the meeting." The elder Kaiba stood and went to smooth his jacket, but a sudden rush to his head overwhelmed him, causing him to pause. Corsetti quirked an eyebrow.

"You're gonna have to work on your tolerance if you want to have a tournament in Vegas, buddy." He laughed, raising his glass in a mock toast.

Seto straightened, trying to ignore the tingling coursing through his veins. He hadn't thought he had that much to drink, but his body was saying otherwise. He fixed Corsetti with a scowl. "Have a good night, Corsetti." he bit out, and with majority of his pride intact, he left the VIP area.

New York City was doing something strange to him, Seto concluded. Never would he have gone to a nightclub for a business meeting in Domino, nor would he allow himself to get tipsy. He weaved through the mass of wildly dancing drunks, trying his best to avoid their drinks. He would have to call his driver to pick him up, but it was far too loud in the club. The sooner he got out of there, the better.

He had barely gotten halfway through the enormous club when someone jostled him, shouldering him square in the chest. He cursed, stumbled back a few steps. He could feel his blood coming to a boil. Who on earth would so carelessly run into Seto Kaiba?

"Ugh! I spilled my drink."

Seto had barely heard the offender's comment. He squinted through the artificial fog and blinking lights. The voice sounded somewhat familiar.

The person, presumably female by their stature, brought their glass closer to their face to scrutinize what was left of the contents, and with a theatrical shrug, downed the rest. With a huff, the offender spun back to Kaiba and stepped forward, the glass outstretched.

"Hey, I think you owe me a drink."

Kaiba didn't bother to suppress the frustrated groan that spilled from his lips.

"Mazaki."


	5. Chapter 5

"There are no facts, only interpretations."

\- Friedrich Nietzsche

* * *

All she was trying to do was go to the bathroom. She just had to go pee really quick, and then she would be back to take a flaming shot with Cece, as she had promised. But of course, as fate would have it, Anzu's drunkenly thought out plan would not work out.

She was making her way back from the restroom to Kent's booth, sipping on a vodka lemonade as she pleasantly danced through the crowd. The alcohol had settled warmly in her veins, making her feel daring. She had even danced with Kent's friend Matt a few times, and had not bothered to stop him when his hands had boldly slid from her hips to her ass. Anzu began to strategize how she would convince Matt to dance with her again when someone so rudely stepped into her path.

With a yelp, Anzu's shoulder dug painfully into the chest of the offender, causing her to stumble backwards. Her drink sloshed all over her hand as she teetered precariously on her heels.

"Ugh!" she exclaimed, switching her glass to her dry hand to shake off the other one. "I spilled my drink."

Anzu peered into her significantly lighter glass, examining what was left of the alcoholic concoction. There was at least a drink left. So, with a shrug, she downed the rest. She'd just get herself another drink when she got back to the booth.

 _Wait a minute!_ the dancer thought, turning to face the tall figure that had obstructed her path. She let out an irritated huff. _This person should buy me a drink! They made me spill it, anyways._

The music blared in her ears as she stepped forward, holding out here drink. "Hey," she shouted, wiggling the glassware. "I think you owe me a drink."

The offender groaned, sliding a hand over their face in frustration. "Mazaki."

Anzu squinted suspiciously at the tall man, swiping her hand through the air in a futile attempt to get rid of the dry ice obscuring her vision. He knew her last name. How did he know her last name? Through flashes of blue and purple light, she could decipher bits and pieces of his features. Brown hair, cobalt eyes, a stylish grey suit that made him stick out like a sore thumb in a sea of sequins and jeans… Each piece seemed familiar to her, but her fuzzy mind struggled to piece together the puzzle.

Finally, everything seemed to click.

A grin split across Anzu's face. "Holy shit, Kaiba!" She rushed forward, placing a hand on his upper arm in a friendly gesture. If she had been sober, she would have noticed how her former classmate stiffened under her touch, alarmed at her sudden movement. But Anzu was satisfyingly drunk, and she zeroed in on the rosy hue settled high on his cheeks, visible even through the perpetually flashing lights.

"Are you drunk, too?" she asked shrilly, yanking sharply on his arm, causing him to stoop. A part of her mind tittered in warning as she examined Kaiba's eyes. They were awfully close. He was probably angry already. She couldn't bring herself to care, as she had noticed that his eyes were definitely a bit glazed over and out of focus. He had definitely been drinking.

"Do you _mind_?" Kaiba snapped, shaking himself free of the now pouting Anzu. He straightened his tie as he glared across the crowd. "It seems you get even more annoying when you drink. Typical."

"Normally I would take offense to that, but luckily for you, I'm in a very good mood tonight." Anzu drawled, gesturing with her empty glass. Kaiba sidestepped to avoid getting walloped by the exaggerated movement. With a gasp, Anzu gripped his arm again. "I'm so sorry! I almost _hit_ you!"

She immediately withdrew her hand, once again, when she saw Kaiba grind his teeth together. "Right, sorry, no touching. Sorry."

"Stop apologizing, you sound like a broken record."

"Sorry."

Anzu slapped a hand over her mouth, preventing another "sorry" from slipping from her lips.

With an aggravated sigh, Kaiba brought his wrist up to glance at his watch. Anzu couldn't stop a giggle from passing through her fingers as he squinted at the face of the watch.

"Either you need to see an optometrist or someone has the spins." Anzu observed with a smirk, pulling her hand away from her mouth to rest on her hip. Kaiba shot her a withering scowl.

"I have neither the time nor the patience for your pointless banter." he seethed, digging in his pocket and withdrawing a phone. He strode forward, pushing past Anzu.

"Hey, wait a second, what about my drink?" she cried, latching onto his arm. She didn't care if it was the third time she had touched Seto Kaiba without permission, but she was going to get that drink from him whether he liked it or not. He was the one who made her spill it, after all.

"I'm so glad that you're still here, Kaiba. And with a _friend,_ too!"

Kaiba had stopped abruptly in his tracks, causing Anzu to nearly collide into his back. She peeked around his broad shoulders to see an unfamiliar man with two beautiful and scantily clad women draped on his arms. She noticed how shiny his oiled hair looked in the flashing club lights, swallowing the bubble of laughter that worked its way up her throat.

"Corsetti." Kaiba grumbled, delivering the man a curt nod. "I was just making my way out."

 _Corsetti?_ Anzu thought to herself. _Isn't that the man Kent was talking about earlier? The one who owns the club?_

She furrowed her brow as her hazy mind struggled to connect the dots. She vaguely remembered Kent mentioning that Corsetti was the connection that his father wanted him to maintain. Judging by Kent's choice of apparel that night, and the supposed club owner in front of her, Anzu concluded that Corsetti was just a stereotypical party-boy entrepreneur.

But why would Kaiba and Corsetti know each other?

Corsetti slipped his arms from the two women by his side and stepped forward, clapping Kaiba on the shoulder. Anzu glanced at Kaiba's face, expecting his robotic façade from the charity ball to be plastered across his features. However, much to her delight, she watched his lips twist into an annoyed frown.

"Are you sure I can't persuade you to stick around for a few more drinks?" Corsetti asked, his voice drawling over the thumping music. His eyes slid from Kaiba's narrowed ones to settle on Anzu, who had stepped out from behind her former classmate. A wolfish grin bloomed over Corsetti's face as he moved forward to take her hand. "Surely your lady friend doesn't want to go _home_ quite yet."

Anzu's amusement finally overflowed into laughter at Corsetti's remark, catching his crude undertone. "Oh, no, I'm not leaving with _him_!" she exclaimed between chortles, slipping her hand from his to jab her thumb at Kaiba, who shot her an affronted glare. She ignored the look as she continued to giggle. Her? Go home with Kaiba? That was absurd.

Corsetti quirked an eyebrow, his gaze shifting between the two before him. He waved his hand at the women at his sides, and they gratefully melted into the crowd, looking bored from the interaction.

"Sounds like a challenge. Eh, Kaiba?" Corsetti quipped with a smirk, his hand reaching into his coat pocket. "You know, I have something that can help you with that." He began to withdraw an item, but stopped short as to only show a peek. Anzu squinted through the flashing lights, catching sight of what looked like the top of a pill bottle.

 _A pill bottle…? How would that help anything?_ thought Anzu, her face screwing into a quizzical expression, looking back to Kaiba for any clues.

She watched in fascination as a spark ignited in Kaiba's eyes. He gnashed his teeth together as he abruptly took Anzu's upper arm into a firm grip. "That won't be necessary." He snapped, hauling her away from Corsetti and into the crowd, Corsetti's confused shouts swallowed by the music.

Kaiba looked absolutely furious.

"Hey! What do you think you're doing?" Anzu exclaimed as Kaiba roughly deposited her onto a barstool. He slipped between her stool and the dancing girl next to her, bracing himself against the bar.

"I'm getting you that damn drink," he responded between clenched teeth.

Anzu blinked. She studied Kaiba's face as he glared at the busy bartender, wondering why he all of a sudden found it so important to replace the drink he had so rudely caused her to spill. _It must have been something Corsetti had done,_ she surmised, observing in amusement as Kaiba began to tap his index fingers against the bar impatiently.

"So what was that in Corsetti's pocket?" Anzu asked, propping her elbow against the bar. "Was it aspirin? Because, you know, I'm sure you don't get drunk that often."

A muscle jumped in Kaiba's jaw as he shot her a scathing look from the corner of his eye. "Drop it, Mazaki."

A bartender approached them, nodding in Kaiba's direction. "What'll it be?"

"Your best scotch, on the rocks, and whatever she wants." Kaiba answered, gesturing towards Anzu. She glanced at him as he diverted his gaze towards the sea of dancers. Was he avoiding her stare?

"Ma'am?"

Anzu's attention snapped back to the bartender, who was leveling her with an impatient stare. "Oh, uh… I'll just do a shot of Fireball." The bartender nodded and turned to grab a shot glass from the lines of shelves behind him when a mischievous idea popped into Anzu's head. "Wait, make that _two_ shots of Fireball!" she exclaimed, slapping her hand on the table. Kaiba started at the sharp sound that cut through the music.

She grinned at him, sliding her nearly forgotten glass away from her. "You like whiskey, right?"

Kaiba frowned. "If you expect me to take a shot with you, you are sorely mistaken."

"Oh, come on, Kaiba!" she pleaded, nudging his arm with her elbow. "It's a Friday night, and you've already been drinking. What's the harm in one shot?"

The businessman set his jaw and once again averted his gaze. Anzu knew he didn't exactly enjoy her company, but she had to admit that she loved to see him squirm. At the same time, she was confused as to why he didn't just abandon her at the bar and be on his merry way. Maybe it was the alcohol in his system that impaired his judgment. The Kaiba she knew in Domino wouldn't give her current antics the time of day.

 _I wonder how far I can go with this,_ she thought to herself idly as she watched the bartender pour two shots. _If anything, I could get a funny picture to send to the guys back home. They'll never believe it!_

Kaiba slid a crisp $50 across the bar and snatched his scotch. Anzu could tell he was about to make a break for it, so she grabbed his arm.

"Not so fast, hotshot!" she trilled, a broad grin spreading across her face. "You have a shot to take!"

Whirling around, Kaiba suddenly slammed his scotch back on the bar. The force of the gesture caused alcohol to slosh over the rim and onto Anzu's still outstretched arm. She opened her mouth to complain, only to have the words die in her throat. Kaiba had trapped her, hovering just over her with his hands fisted against the bar on either side of her. She could feel his breath ghost across her face as she peered up into his icy, narrowed eyes.

"I don't know what you think you're doing," he hissed, his seething voice slicing through the thumping bass, "but it's not going to work. I've purchased your stupid drink, and I owe you nothing more. I am a very busy man, and the last thing I would like to do in this godforsaken city is babysit the prima ballerina of Mutou's glorified cheer squad. Got it?"

Anzu blinked owlishly, startled by his sudden outburst. His face remained mere inches from hers, despite the end of his declaration. Strangely, the way his jaw clenched and unclenched and the way his chest heaved with anger beneath an undoubtedly expensive silk oxford sent a small thrill through her heart. A bizarre urge to teasingly loosen his immaculately knotted tie washed over her.

 _Interesting,_ she mused.

Instead of grasping Kaiba's tie, Anzu's fingers fumbled for one of the full shot glasses behind her and proffered it just below his nose. "I'm not asking to be babysat, Kaiba. Just humor me and take the shot, and maybe I'll be out of your hair."

"This isn't a joke."

"I'm not laughing."

Kaiba stared at her hard, and after what felt like an eternity, he let out a deep sigh and snatched the shot glass from her hand. Anzu grinned and clinked her own against his.

"To friendship!" she crowed, enjoying the grimace crossing Kaiba's features.

"No, thanks." he muttered, tossing back the shot. Anzu quickly followed.

The liquor slid easily down her throat, the cinnamon rising up through her nose. Setting the shot glass back on the bar, Anzu fixed her gaze on Kaiba. "So I suppose you wouldn't be interested in joining me and my friends for the rest of the night?" she offered. "Kent Warrick is here. I know you have connections with his father, or something like that. What do you say?"

"Not likely." Kaiba sneered, taking a dignified sip of his scotch.

Anzu sighed. It didn't seem like Kaiba was going to give in. "I'm not trying to annoy you," she reassured, propping her elbow against the bar. "It's just sort of nice to see someone from home, you know? I mean it's so hard to see anyone with the distance and how busy everyone is. Especially Yugi with his dueling career. It seems like he never takes a break. It's almost as if he's still trying to escape the shadow of-!"

Anzu snapped her mouth shut. She had almost said _his_ name.

She noticed that her sudden halt in speech had grabbed Kaiba's attention, as he fixed her with a piercing stare. Heat rushed to her cheeks, and Anzu was convinced that it was not due to the alcohol. "Huh, I lost my train of thought! Maybe I should slow down on the drinks." She finished with a lame laugh.

It was at this point that Anzu had wished she had ordered a cocktail rather than a shot, as she had nothing to busy her hands with to avoid Kaiba's gaze. She tried to focus on her hands that were clasped together on the bar, but it was proving to be difficult due to her intoxicated state. How foolish of her, letting her liquor-loosened tongue make a mistake she hadn't made in a very long time.

"The Pharaoh."

Anzu flinched at Kaiba's curt response, mentally cursing. She felt ridiculous that the sore subject of the Pharaoh still elicited such a response. She thought she had made peace with the conflicting feelings inside of her, but reluctance kept her from completely disposing the matter from her heart. She stole a glance of Kaiba from the corner of her eye as he took another sip from his drink. He kept his gaze trained on her, but Anzu couldn't decipher the expression on his face.

"It's not as if I have time for them to visit anyways," she plowed on, eager to leave conversation of the ancient spirit in the past. "Dance saps all my time anyways. I'm lucky that I have this evening off. Usually I'm in the studio on Friday nights making sure I'm on top of the other girls. My time at the apprenticeship is nearing its end and I need to make sure my spot in the troupe isn't taken out from beneath me."

A scoff escaped Kaiba's lips. "I'm surprised that the spokesman of friendship herself feels the need to fend off hostile ballerinas."

She shot him a glare. "I'm not always friendship and sunshine, you know," she snapped, wiggling her fingers towards Kaiba. "I'm not as predictable as you think."

Kaiba raised a brow, swirling his scotch absently. "Is that so?"

Anzu raised her chin. "Yeah."

Giving her a scornful look, Kaiba scoffed again. "Please, don't flatter yourself. You're as predictable as they come." Anzu let out a sound of protest, but the young businessman pressed on. "You've already made it to New York. You'll end up growing tired of the competition in your troupe and return to Domino, probably settling on marrying Yugi and accepting your inevitable role as supporting cast for the rest of your life."

"Su-supporting cast?!" Anzu howled, her face flushing angrily. "You don't think I have what it takes to make it?"

"You've spent your entire life in the shadows of your so-called friends, so why should I believe that you can survive, especially when they don't have the time to support you?"

Anzu's jaw worked wordlessly. She could feel her blood rushing through her veins as her anger built. She hated the way Kaiba stared at her with those stupid blue eyes, acting like he had her all figured out. _Well, he doesn't,_ she raged silently, resisting the urge to smack away the glass of undoubtedly expensive scotch that was poised at his smirking lips. _Predictable, hah! I'll show him predictable._

Suddenly, as he took another dignified swig, Anzu remembered their earlier run-in with Corsetti.

The pounding club music seemed to fade away to the hammering of her heartbeat in her own ears. Anzu dove her hand into her purse and pulled out a fistful of cash, slapping it on the bar. "Another Fireball, please," she called. The shot of alcohol would steel her resolve. She knew what she was about to do may end very poorly, but it would prove a point to Kaiba.

The bartender slid a shot glass brimming with the amber liquid from before to her. _Here goes nothing_ , she thought as she tossed the shot down her throat. Then, with newfound liquid courage, she slid off her barstool, fisted his oxford in her hands, and brought Kaiba's lips down to meet her own.


End file.
